


hold this fragile thing

by kaumari



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: But also, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Relationship, done for atsukita week but like hell if i know for which day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25431499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaumari/pseuds/kaumari
Summary: Atsumu and Shinsuke are in love. It just takes them some time to realize it.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 12
Kudos: 121
Collections: Atsukita Week





	hold this fragile thing

**Author's Note:**

> sooo,,,,technically this is a mashup of atskt days 1+ 4, but none of that was on purpose i just,,,,could not figure out a theme. i hope it makes sense anyway, there was a side plot i almost put in but then i forgot about it while writing and then realized it would just be adding another day from atskt week into a fic with enough atskt day prompts as is SO
> 
> please enjoy, thank you.
> 
> atsukita days:  
> 1 - first kiss  
> 4 - longing

Atsumu calls exactly three hours and forty-seven minutes before the match. Shinsuke accepts on the first ring.

The line is silent save for Atsumu’s painfully controlled breathing. Shinsuke does not speak first. Eventually, Astumu’s exhale shudders.

“Will ya be watching, Shin?” He thinks of pride, of success, of promises. He tries not to think of memories, but they creep in anyway.

“I will.” Short, simple, elegant. Atsumu’s next exhale does not shudder.

“I’m glad.”

* * *

Somewhere between pompous first year and cocky second year, Atsumu fell in love. It's a startling realization, although he didn’t realize it then. He always believed (needed) volleyball to be his life. Love, or anything tangential to it, was never the plan.

His eyes stray to watch Kita receive another spike from Suna. He's solid, but he doesn't quite stop the spin of the ball. Tokoyama has to step out to set it, but Aran, dependable and unshakable, smashes through Suna and Osamu. Akagi is a touch too slow to get his arms underneath it. There is no change in Kita’s expression; he simply rotates as Aran takes the serve.

Kita brings a level of calm to the court with his very presence. There is very little that can shake him; even Atsumu’s own bratty tantrum (only once!) is taken in stride. He wonders where it all comes from. For such a simple man, Atsumu has a hard time figuring him out.

* * *

One hour and twenty-three minutes before the match, Shinsuke texts him “Good luck.” The reply is a quick “Pray to a god for me.” He smiles at the joke. A man with no need for luck and a man with no need for gods. What a pair they make.

Atsumu has hardly changed, he muses. Still sharp-tongued, rude, and flashy. He still demands the center of attention, but it's slightly tempered by the excitement of having so many monster hitters to set to.

He puts his phone away as the train comes to a stop.

* * *

He always thought his future partner would need to love volleyball as much as he does – that they would need to love it with the same intensity and single-minded focus he does. In hindsight, a relationship like that, one where they never focused on each other, would always end up in flames. He never considered balance an option. It was always tossing himself into the deep end, and the only options were sink or swim. Anything else felt like an easy out, but he was starting to understand the difference between striving for excellence and crashing from exhaustion.

Kita has known this for a while. He knows the difference between diligence and burn out, and he does his best to help Atsumu know it too. He appreciates that. A note to take care of himself, some snacks, a promise to call later. He looks back now and decides _that_ was when he fell in love.

* * *

Thirty minutes before the match, Shinsuke seats himself in the family box, dressed in an innocuous white and red pinstripe shirt and slacks. Or, it would be innocuous if he wasn't at an Olympic volleyball game, where 90% of the crowd proudly wore its country's jersey.

It's only a group match, Japan versus Serbia, but it's setting the tone for the rest of the stage. With a team composed largely of younger and less experienced players, the Japan team has a lot to prove. Shinsuke has faith in them. Well, enough faith and sense that Japan would pass the qualification round. They are a team of monsters, and Atsumu is happy to manipulate them.

* * *

Atsumu does not confess when Kita graduates. It's a source of endless complaints for Osamu, who already suffers a barrage of “Kita-san”s from Suna and then comes home to suffer more from his own brother. But even he, Miya Atsumu, the new emotionally stunted Inarizaki captain, is mature enough to recognize that the present him is unworthy of Kita Shinsuke.

Osamu, predictably, disagrees and calls him a coward. It's big talk from someone who refuses to confess to a certain friend – Osamu couldn’t possibly hide the heart eyes he makes at Suna when he’s not looking. It's easy to distract himself from the Kita Problem using the Suna Problem, and significantly more entertaining to boot, but he cannot distract himself from the listlessness. He never understood how you could crave someone's presence until there was no steady rock to latch onto. Until he falls sick and there is no one to call the next day.

Realistically, he thinks this is when the teenage crush harbored on a past captain dissipates like mist in the morning sun. Practically, Atsumu is rarely realistic.

* * *

Atsumu is subbed in during the second set, and his jump floater is sufficiently confusing to get them three service aces. But it's while Atsumu is in the thick of the action, smashing past blocks and jumping for sets, that Shinsuke thinks he is most beautiful. Raw passion, refined and distilled into elegant, practiced movements. He has practiced them a hundred times and he will practice them a hundred more.

A teammate he can be proud of. After all this time, Atsumu upholds that off-handed promise of nine years ago, cherishing it until it blooms. He finds that comfortingly poetic.

If you’re going to do something, do it right. He must have rubbed off on Atsumu more than he thought.

* * *

They meet again when Atsumu graduates. Kita had gone to college all of one year before deciding he would take over Takeshi’s fields. He was an old friend of Kita’s grandma, and with no sons or in-laws interested in the practice, he felt it would be a waste to simply sell it.

Kita says none of this while they were getting lunch with the other third years and, oddly enough, Akagi, who had somehow gotten a break from his tech start up long enough to bestow upon them a visit. He waits until he and Atsumu are alone, buying boba as Atsumu’s treat. In return, he tells Kita about the three offers in the pro leagues he's received so far. Two from V2 leagues, one from a Russian league. He's already called back Dynamo Moscow to discuss details, and while no contracts have been written, he's feeling good. Confident. There's never been a question for him about what to do with his life but that hasn't stopped the nerve-wracking fear that he would crash and burn as soon as things got serious.

Despite not mentioning any of his doubts, Kita still gives him a flat, unimpressed look. “Yer second-guessin’ yerself.” A chill shoots down Atsumu’s spine and he straightens on a forgotten instinct.

“How didja know?” He's not stupid enough to try denying it. Kita’s lips twitch into a smile for a brief moment before he catches himself.

“Ya get too quiet. Like yer tryin’ to talk yerself out of somethin’.” The words roll off his tongue and fall softly in the space between them. Even while berating him, Kita is still effortlessly composed and calm.

“Yer right, Kita-san. I told ya I would be a teammate ya would be proud of, and I'm gonna make it true.”

Kita allows his smile to blossom this time. “I'm sure ya will, Atsumu.” And he knows Kita means it.

* * *

The match is close. Japan has more raw talent, but the Serbian team has more expertise. Exactly none of Japan's current lineup have taken part in the Olympics before, but they make up for that by using each hitter to the fullest. They win the group match 3-2, to the deafening cheers of the crowd.

Shinsuke is not part of it. His voice means nothing in this cacophony, and he finds little point in screaming himself hoarse. Instead, he steps out of the box while the two teams shake hands at the net and makes his way to the locker room. He flashes a team member card Sakusa had gotten him, on the grounds of “I like your diligence, and maybe Miya will shut up when he sees you.” He thanks him politely and makes a mental note to ask Atsumu what he means.

* * *

Moscow is a learning experience above all else. He does not set for monsters but for veterans, seasoned players who see his fire and shake their heads nostalgically. He barely knows a lick of Russian when he arrives, but by the time he has spent two years with them, alternating between first and second string, starting and subbing, he gets better – both his Russian and his setting. His final contract year is here, and he thinks it's time to take everything home.

He accepts a contract for four years with the MSBY Black Jackals and heads back. Osamu organizes some semblance of a welcome back party, complete with EJP Raijin’s Suna Rintarou, Tachibana Red Falcons Ojiro Aran, and assorted Inarizaki alum. Which is to say, Kita Shinsuke is there, and two years as a farmhand have done him well, which in turn does things to Atsumu's poor heart.

He once read infatuation lasted only three years. He's sure that's a load of shit, but it's something to think about. The way his eyes follow Kita across the room, the way Atsumu’s own genuine smile is second nature with him, the way he reminds himself of promises from a boy with a chip on his shoulder to another boy who's seemingly had it all figured out – it all has to mean something. And if it means something, why doesn't he do something about it?

This isn't high school anymore. There's no excuse that he has to grow as a person before he can even consider Kita returning his feelings. Osamu called him a coward, once upon a time – well, it was something he called Atsumu often, but this time he had meant it. Hiding behind paper-thin excuses had never been his style, not in anything that mattered.

He'll do it here, now. At this little welcome back party where they can part ways silently if it goes badly, because Atsumu may have found his bolt of courage but hearts are still fragile things.

* * *

The first player to enter is Hinata, who stops dead in his tracks when he sees Shinsuke sitting on the bench, prim and proper. Shinsuke winks discreetly at him and understanding lights up Hinata’s face.

“Kageyama-kun, hurry!” Kageyama appears at the spiker’s call and raises an eyebrow in a silent question. “Don't say anything, it's a surprise for Atsumu-san!” Kageyama looks back down the hall.

“You can’t keep it a surprise much longer.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just pretend everything’s normal!” They enter the room fully and busy themselves with their lockers. The next few players–Yaku, Ushijima, and Sakusa, who gives him a clipped nod–pause only momentarily before following Hinata and Kageyama’s lead. Aran enters behind them and offers him a quick wink before motioning at the hall. He can hear Atsumu talking with Bokuto about a particular toss in the first set that had gone well, and he can’t help but smile softly. Even now, Atsumu already has his sights on the next match. ‘We don’t need things like memories.’ Move forward and improve, but don’t dwell on past mistakes. Out of everyone, Atsumu had taken it to heart most, and Shinsuke never had trouble understanding why.

He doesn’t have to wait long until Atsumu’s gaze catches and holds on him.

* * *

He confesses on a full moon, which is something only take a note of because he spends most of his confession studiously examining everything that is not Kita. So he remembers in quite vivid detail the pot of peonies outside and the twisted iron table on the adjacent apartment balcony. He remembers a man in a red and white jacket stumbling down the street.

He doesn't remember what he says. He probably rambled about anything having to do with Kita, from Inarizaki to Moscow to Osaka, because he has been in love for five years with all the little things that make Kita special, and absence has only made him fonder. It's been five years without him realizing time is flying by, and there's no excuse to keep waiting. He doesn't remember saying any of those things, but he probably did.

He remembers Kita’s response. “Yer second-guessin’ yerself,'' Kita tells him, always calm, this time gentle. “Ya got quiet on me Atsumu.”

“Ya always knew me better than I knew myself.”

Kita hums, searching patiently for Atsumu’s wandering gaze. “I don’t think that’s true. I just know what ta say ta make ya think.”

“What do ya want me ta think of now?

“That ya should have more confidence. If ya set yerself up for the worst outcome, ya won’t appreciate the best.” Atsumu finds himself struggling to think, although that’s not exactly new. He regularly finds himself unable to function properly around Kita, but right now it feels like he’s having a system shutdown.

“And what would that be?” He remembers later that he sounds embarrassingly out of breath, but in the moment, it’s unimportant.

“Atsumu, can I kiss ya?”

Kita tastes like watermelon and starfruit, and Atsumu feels dizzy. He clutches Kita’s hip, not too hard, never too hard, but enough to ground himself. The careful slide of Kita’s lips against his, chaste, not yet daring to ask for more. It's intoxicating, and if this is what he’s allowed to have, he counts himself the luckiest man on earth.

* * *

“Shin,” Atsumu gasps, striding forward to pull Shinsuke into a hug. “Ya said ya couldn’t come.”

“Ya heard me wrong, Atsumu. I said I didn’t know if I could get away long enough,” he chides, and he feels his boyfriend’s back stiffen reflexively at the reappearance of his captain voice. If he listens closely enough, he can hear Sakusa’s entertained snort. “Ya let their blocks get to ya in the fourth set.”

“I know,” Atsumu says glumly, reluctantly releasing Kita from his sweaty arms. “Yaku-san already let me hear it. I got frustrated.”

“Ya still brought them back, didn’t ya?” His eyes shine, only for Atsumu. “Ya recovered well, so I can’t say ya handled it too badly.”

Atsumu snorts. “Ya need ta stop spending so much time with Samu, I’m gonna get whiplash with all these backhanded comments.”

“Ya did really well, Tsumu.” Gentle, sincere. Atsumu’s face, already flushed with adrenaline, somehow gets even redder. “Ya really are my teammate I can be proud of.”

“Shin,” Atsumu whines, one hand clutched over his heart. “I take it back, I’ll die if ya give me such sincere compliments.”

“You’d be doing us a great service if you keep complimenting him, Kita-san,” Sakusa quips, and Atsumu rebounds quickly to yell an indignant “Omi-kun!” It’s so endearingly natural for prickly, stubborn Atsumu to start a fight whenever his pride is threatened, and Shinsuke has learned to pick his battles. So he watches the two throw insults at each other and finds himself more in love than ever before.

He'll think about it again watching Japan play Argentina, and again when they play Mexico, and again when he welcomes Atsumu home after their loss to Russia in the semifinals, when the cloud of disappointment and regret utterly consumes him for a week. It isn't love that makes him wait patiently for Atsumu to work through his pain, one that Shinsuke will never understand, but it is love that holds Atsumu tight at night, and makes his favorite chūtoro, and leaves him the last end slice of bread that he likes best.

So when Atsumu smiles at him again, tentative and sheepish with an unspoken apology, Shinsuke returns only love and understanding in his own. After all, love is in the little things.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/timelessidyll)


End file.
